


The Red Wolf's Rage

by Cassiduh



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Badass Sansa, Canon-Typical Violence, Dorne deserved better, F/F, F/M, Multi, Oberyn Martell Lives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Soulmates, Political Sansa Stark, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiduh/pseuds/Cassiduh
Summary: Oberyn is Sansa's soul marked and has known for years but ignored it, filled with regret after hearing whispers of what she had been suffering at the hands of the lions who killed his beloved sister Ellia he decided it was finally time to do the right thing only to find that Sansa may not need his help quite as much as he initially thought
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Loras Tyrell & Margaery Tyrell, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/Sansa Stark, Oberyn Martell/Sansa Stark
Comments: 45
Kudos: 230





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This uploaded an unedited version first so I did my best to fix it but let me know if I miss anything

Oberyn would always regret what the recklessness of his youth had cost his soul marked. Even more so when the Stark that bore a red viper coiled around one thigh and a sun pierced by a spear adorning a snowy white hip disappeared without a trace in the chaos of would soon come to be known as the Purple wedding. He shouldn't know what her markings were, and neither should the man who had told him of their existence on porcelain skin as cold and unforgiving to him as the namesake of her father's great sword, Ice. Just as the man that told him shouldn't be married to the one the gods had intended for him. Though he did not blame Tyrion for the sins of his family, despite the anger that burned in his gut sat the thought of another man so much as seeing the marks that were the very representation of his soul given shape. He was calmed by Ellaria enough to hear that the only reason the little lion knew of Sansa's marks was because he was in love with the girl's handmaiden and not because he had taken what marital rights he could have claimed whether the girl wished it or not. Truly Oberyn was grateful that Tyrion had not done as his father had no doubt insisted and had left the girl a maid in the marriage bed alone, from what he had heard the half man had done his best to protect the little wolf that was far from home with no friends in this pit of lions. 

Many had forgotten though that behind her shield of perfectly curated manners and pretty words she was of the North, and the North remembers. Oberyn had thought his brother Doran to have been a master at the long game before he had set foot in the capitol and now as he stood dumbfounded staring at where Sansa had been only moments before mind refusing to believe that she truly was gone, completely unbothered by the dead boy king that lay in his raging mother's arms a few feet away. It was Ellaria that brought him back to attention to find that Tyrion was being arrested for following in his brother's footsteps committing regicide. A pair of kingslayers the Lannisters could now boast. Both he and Doran, and everyone else apparently had overlooked Sansa's capabilities. 

He and his brother had been blinded by the memory of a sister long lost to the same place, the same people; but Sansa was not Elia and if nothing else this proved it. It was both perfect and unfortunate. The Lions had lied about their 'Key to the North' the Queen's ' Little Dove'. Claimed that she bore no marks to tie her to anyone not even a sibling. A rare but not unheard of thing but seen as a sign that the gods didn't see fit to gift you with your other half. Joffrey had been one such without a mark, as was Tryion though Oberyn had his own theories when it came to the little lion man, the last had supposedly been Sansa. and Twyin being the political man he was spun the story into a grand love affair meant as a great blessing by the Gods that Jofferey and Sansa had to be meant for each other because they both bore no marks for another therefore by not speaking the gods had indeed given their blessing. 

It truly was genius until her marks had formed and were hidden from all and spoken of by none of the very few who even knew of their existence. The rules when it came to royal markings were very clear. Sansa should have only been allowed to wed the man who shared her markings in return unless she shared a familial bond like the pair of lions Cercei and Jaime or the thorned roses of Margery Tyrell and her brother Loras. Oberyn would never forgive himself for what he cost an innocent girl in his anger and grief. Soulmates were sacred no matter if you worshiped the old gods or the seven. 

When he had been little more than a boy Oberyn had been sure that he would bare Elia's marks and would never need to marry. To say his reaction was bad when just a few short years after the loss of his beloved sister who he had believed to be the other half of his soul a red snarling dire wolf with its head tipped back in a howl somehow managing to look both sorrowful and vengeful had taken shape just above his heart barely able to stay hidden by the less restrictive clothing of the Dornish. When anyone managed a look at that wide open mouth they all swear they could hear echoing of a wolf in their head. 

He had hated that mark and everything it had meant for him so against his brother's advice he left Westeros and purposefully walked the tightrope between life and death because he could not bring himself to accept whoever the wolf represented even in thought. Especially a Stark, and it surely was a Stark. Had refused to even learn the little girl's name when his brother begged him to send word to the Warden of the North so that he may have time to prepare his family for one of his children to become a a donnish princess.

He had yelled in a fit of rage filled grief, "I do not want their acceptance, because no matter who they are they shall never have mine!" He had never felt the sting of his own words so harshly as he had when he learned of the many atrocities the young girl had suffered because she had been allowed to be betrothed to one who was an abomination a prince who bore no mark when she rode South with her Father and sister. All because none in the Seven kingdoms had claimed to have her mark on their skin, because he had not claimed to have been her match and that guilt ate at him to his very core, for he could have prevented this girl so much heartache if only he had been the type of prince from the stories.

Now that he had finally had a chance to free her from this cage she had managed to flee on her own and it both filled him with pride and regret because he had yet to speak a single word to the girl, too busy playing at his and Doran's own machinations to give any thought to the fact that she may have some of her own. That she may not want or need him after all that she had endured without his help and he would not blame her but he would not simply allow her to slip through her fingers. At the very least he would be the shield at he back, her dagger in the night to keep her safe from any others that thought to harm Sansa Stark.


	2. Chapter 2

Oberyn could clearly recall his first conversation with his intended's husband. Outside a brothel where he had already injured a Lannister soldier, and it had taken every piece of his control to not strike the little lion down too. They both spoke in riddles and hypotheticals but were more than aware of the true meaning behind their words. "Why are you here Prince Oberyn?" Shifting his soft riding boots to lean a shoulder against the wall Oberyn used his height to his advantage forcing the smaller Lion to look up at him but he had apparently miscalculated when he crossed his arms with a roguish grin that dared a rebuke because before he could throw back into the man's face that he had indeed been invited, the shorter man's gaze had zoned in on the red and raw looking open maw of a howling wolf peeking free of his usually carefully placed clothing. Oberyn wondered if the little Lannister could hear the wolf's call as so many others claimed to he heard, though if he had to hazard a guess it wasn't pleasant based on the man's expression and he found himself unwilling to ask just yet. 

"Everyone in Westeros assumed you bore your sister Elia's mark and that was why you had suffered through such terrible grief." With a sigh Oberyn readjusted his outer robe to fully cover the wolf before answering the unspoken question. "I was young and resentful of the people who returned the body of who I had believed to be my other half. I blamed an innocent girl because of it and I will never forgive myself for running from my responsibilities. For leaving her in a den of lions alone and unprotected." The tightness of the smaller man's fists was a surprise the had Oberyn raising a brow in curiosity. "She has suffered more than most and while I could not save her from all of it I did my best to protect her. There was only so much I could do." Oberyn couldn't hold back the scoff of disbelief and the little man looked ready to swing but instead took a deep breath with eyes closed. "I know my wife bares the mark of a red viper twined around a thigh while a sun is pierced by a spear on her hip. I would get her to the man picked by the god's to be her other half for it is not me and I cannot bare to see her suffer any further at the hands of my family."

Tyrion could see the rage burning in the taller man's eyes at his words as he bent to his level with a blade that had been tucked into his belt tilting the shorter man's chin back to force eye contact. "And how would you know these things Little Lion, such delicate places for markings on a lady that weren't meant for you to see." The defiant tilt of his chin was interesting but it was the half man's words that had his immediate attention as he swatted the dagger away without a care. "I know because I am in love with her handmaiden Shae. Sansa does not much care for my company and I do not blame her, but I do want what is best for her and apparently the gods think that is you."

"You know that if it became public knowledge that the lady bore the markings of another our marriage would be voided even if we had consummated the marriage which we have not."

"It would also make quite a lot of trouble for you and your father even potentially the crown. It is unforgivable to keep a marked pair apart."

"Yes, almost as unforgivable as denying the match in the first place. Trust me PRINCE Oberyn, not even your beloved Dorne would excuse your abandonment of Sansa for how many years now? You have just as much to lose unless we control the revelation of your connection to the last remaining Stark, and if we do it right not even my father could keep her from you. No matter how much he may wish to."

And wasn't that just a punch to the gut because Tyrion was right, his crime was just as bad perhaps even worse in some people's eyes. Oberyn couldn't quite hide his slight flinch at the other man's words but he refused to look away for he was a Prince of Dorne and he was unbowed, unbent, and unbroken. He would teach his intended to be the same in time, or at least he hoped so. "Tell me then Little Lion, are the whispers I've heard of her treatment while in your dear family's care true?" The stiffening of Tyrion's shoulders told Oberyn that at least part of what he had heard was indeed true but he needed to know what exactly he had cost her so he knew how deep his debt ran. 

Mismatched eyes flicked away from his first as the smaller man gestured for them to return inside with a wave of his hand and a grimace that spoke of terrible memories that he had hoped not to relive. "For that Prince Oberyn we will need wine. A lot of wine, and perhaps you will wish for the company of your paramour to keep you from rash actions for now is not the time to make hasty decisions." Oh how he did not like the sound of that, but he refused to be ignorant of the consequences of his actions, or rather inaction so he did as he was bid and returned to find his dearest lounging in the bed where he had left her glass of wine in hand, looking for all the world to be unbothered but Oberyn knew Ellaria too well for her facade of disinterest to fool him. He could see the concern in her gaze though she simply gave the half man a sultry smile as she introduced herself without bothering to rise in the respect that Tryion's name and title deserved especially from a bastard such as her. Though Oberyn found it interesting to see that if anything Lord Tyrion seemed if anything amused by the distinct lack of respectful curtesy he was no doubt used to receiving as Tywin Lannister's son.

Tryion poured wine into a pair of wine glasses as Oberyn pressed a gentle kiss to Ellaria's forehead as he passed her to lounge in a chair stretching out in a way that suggested ease and arragance in equal measure though at the moment he felt neither and could practically feel Ellaria stiffen at the sight of him so unlike himself though she said nothing, instead choosing to wait and see what it was that had caused her lover such concern. 

"Shall we start at the beginning then or were there particular questions you wished to ask first?"

"The beginning is always the best, and I'd rather have a well rounded understanding of her experiences than get distracted lest I miss something important."

With a sigh Tyrion drained his glass before immediately pouring another, "Very well, just remember you asked to know so do not kill the messenger." While Both Oberyn and Ellaria's gazes were on the Imp he refused to meet their gazes as if it was too much to both speak of what had happened and see their reactions to his words. 

"You should know when she first arrived she believed her and Jofferey's marriage was meant to be as one of the great love stories she had been so fond of, at least until she begged on her knees before the court for mercy for her father. Until she stood with her betrothed before the city after convincing her father to confess to a crime he had not committed so that the King would show him mercy and allow him to take the black and return North to the Wall only for Jofferey to order Sir Illyn Payne to take his head as she stood at his side screaming that he had promised her mercy and watched as her father's head fell from his shoulder's from a strike from his own great sword. She was not yet fourteen at the time."

Ellaria shot up from her reclined position a look of horror spread across her face, Oberyn was surprised that his grip on the glass of wine had not caused it to shatter in his rage. Mercy had been all she had asked and even that had been too much for the monstrous little boy king. "The entire retinue that had been brought from the North with her was killed, including her Septa. Though by some miracle her younger sister Arya managed to escape though it is unlikely the girl is still alive. All of their heads, including her father's were placed on pikes on the ramparts for all to see. I know on at least one occasion he took her there to force her to look at them after her brother had declared his rebellion against the crown, and yet she maintained at least to anyone who asked that "She was loyal to Jofferey her one true love". Just as she agreed that her family were traitors to all who spat the name of Stark at her like an insult."

At this Oberyn shot up from his seat slamming his glass on the table between him and the little Lannister man outraged that she had suffered such injustice. Tyrion shot him an impatient glance out of the corner of his eye irritation clear on his face and it made Oberyn's hands itch to wrap around his throat. "I suggest you calm yourself for that is not the worst of it and I would prefer to get this conversation over and done with so that I may go back to trying to forget the many things I could not protect her from."

Soft hands trailed his tightened shoulders as a heady familiar scent of spices spread around him grounding him fro a moment as Ellaria's soothing voice whispered in his ear reminding him of something he already knew but needed to hear again none the less. "Calm my lover. You are here for her now, but you need to hear all of it or you will never be able to atone to her or forgive yourself." So with a nod he retook his seat and gestured for Tyrion to continue. 

"After one of the battles her brother had won against the Lannister army she was brought to court and was beaten by a kingsgaurd the back of her dress torn to better feel the strikes from the flat of a sword as my nephew held a crossbow pointed at her asking if she believed her brother could hear her screams from the Riverlands. I had only recently returned with my father's leave to take his place as Hand of the King in his absence. When I came across what was happening I put a stop to it. Bloody and bruised she walked through the crowd of people who had watched as she had been beaten and humiliated with her head held high and when I asked if she wished for me to find a way to end their engagement as I escorted her away all she had to say was "I am loyal to Jofferey, my one true love." I doubt that was the first time he had done such a thing though it was the last while I held the position as his hand."

"She was his betrothed, and even if she had not been Sansa is still a Lady of a high house and a child how could such treatment have been accepted even if she had been simply a hostage? What sort of place is this that no one came to her defense, that knights of the Kingsgaurd either stood by or took part in the beating of a young girl?!" It seemed Ellaria had hit her limit and Oberyn could understand because what had happened to Sansa Stark was unspeakable, unthinkable, and unbelievable by Dornish standards. After finishing another glass without a response to his paramour's outburst Tryion brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose obviously coming close to the end of his patience as well but Oberyn would hear it all he had to.

"There was a riot when we sent Marcella to Dorne, Sansa was swept away in the crowd. The king did not wish to send anyone to look for her when we found she was missing. He said that she deserved whatever was done to her. When I tried to order the kings guards to go look for her they refused because it was against the king's wishes. I suppose it was lucky that the Hound had a soft spot for the girl. He found her just as four men were about to rape her. Thankfully they did not get the chance and were all killed."

No woman should be forcibly taken, sex was meant to be only about pleasure for both men and women to the Dornish. In their lands there was little anyone could do that was worse than rape. The thought that Sansa had come so close to suffering such a travesty turned his stomach just as it had Ellaria's who had a hand grasped at her mouth in disbelief tears in her eyes at the thought that while she had been happy and in love with Oberyn this girl that he was meant for from the moment of her birth had been forced to endure so many things that were all but unheard of in their homeland.

"When Jofferey set her aside for Margerey Tyrell she was naive enough to believe she would be allowed to go home, that we would no longer have a use for her. Of course her joy was short lived. Afterall, my father would never let the Key to the North slip through his fingers, and she would be the Key to all of the North. Theon Greyjoy who she had been raised with like a brother had taken her home and killed her two youngest brother's leaving their bodies burnt and for all to see on the walls of her home, and Robb while still alive at the time there were already plans in place for his death which would leave her the eldest and probably last remaining living Stark."

Raising his glass in a mocking toast with a self deprecating smile Tyrion continued without real pause though he looked pained at the need to continue. "What better way to secure the north and further humiliate an already so damaged little girl than to marry her to me and tie her to the Lannister's before the Tyrell's could squirrel her away for Loras to marry. Father was adamant that I get her with child as soon as possible, but I could not. Would not be the cause of any more of her pain if I could help it. Though I admit to a moment where I thought we may grow fond of each other before the Frey's killed her Mother and brother at the Red Wedding, before I knew she wasn't cursed like me and my god forsaken nephew to live without a mark."

Oberyn did not think himself to be capable of feeling sympathy for a Lannister but it seemed that Tyrion was nothing like the rest of his family and for that he was glad that Sansa'd had at least some form of protector in his absence even if their protection wasn't't nearly enough. His heart ached and his blood boiled as he too emptied his glass of wine wondering if he truly was too late. 

"She is strong and clever though she pretends otherwise, because she understands that it is safer for her to seem that way. She hides behind her curtesy like armor and uses her words to cut you to the bone with the hidden meanings behind her words though there is never anything that could be taken outright as offense."

Curious Oberyn and Ellaria were both startled when the smaller man threw his head back in a laugh mismatched eyes finally meeting his with mirth as he leaned towards them as if to share a secret. "Before the battle of the Blackwater Jofferey had her kiss the sword her father's had been reworked into to wish him luck in battle. She said she would pray for my safe return, I was naturally shocked so I asked if she truly meant it do you want to know what she said?"

Oberyn could only nod with a confused crease to his brow. 

"Yes, just as I pray for they King's."

Perhaps there was hope for her yet he thought with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

It had taken Oberyn a few days to even manage to grasp the basics of what happened at the Purple Wedding and even the bare bones of the plan were both daring and impressive, though still puzzling. Sansa's plan, he had a feeling would always have shadows of doubt that only she could shed light on. She'd somehow managed to flee the city and much like her sister before her no-one had seen her since, or at least no-one admitted to it. Tyrion had been arrested for Jofferey's death and While Oberyn knew the smaller man had been the one to pour the wine into the boy's cup he wasn't the one who poisoned it. He'd been turned into a lowly pawn on the board by a girl that nobody thought was playing in this game of thrones of their's. It proved to be a fatal mistake for Jofferey, a devastating loss for Cersei, an inconvenience for Tywin and the Tyrell's, and just plain confusing for Tyrion.

Public opinion was split when it came to motive. Whether Tyrion was manipulated into the act by what had proven to be another treacherous Stark or if he had made the decision on his own in hopes of winning his wife's favor. Oberyn couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes at the distinct lack of attention that the people of King's Landing seemed to be paying to the brilliance behind it all choosing instead to dumb everything down to make themselves feel less foolish for their oversight. Something whispered to him though that her choice to use poison had been made for more than the sake of convenience. His time at the Citadel had taught him many things, but poisons had always been his specialty. It was well and widely known that despite being labelled 'a woman's weapon' that the Red Viper of Dorne had a certain affinity for the craft of various kinds of poisons, and while The Strangler was not his most trusted he was aware of the complexity of it's creation.

Enough to know that despite what the crown was claiming that even the Grand Maester didn't house it in his stores. To know that it was the type of poison that had a short shelf life and very little practical use. There would have been no reason for it, not even in the Red Keep. That meant Sansa would have needed to gather the ingredients and mix it for herself which would have been no easy task even if she had been given an entire Apothecary all to herself. Clever girl indeed, but bold and angry. Part of that anger he knew was aimed at him, rightly so. 

Which made it unclear if she hadn't truly intended for it to have been him that was blamed for the boy's death and not Tyrion. After all, he still hadn't managed to escape scrutiny even with Tyrion's arrest. The Martell's of Dorne had a bloody and violent past with the Lannister's of Casterly Rock and with his proclivity with the murder weapon with which the bastard boy had been dispatched from the world of the living it was unavoidable for there to be whispers. Whispers of how he had only come from Dorne to exact revenge for the death of his sister and her two young children. Honestly, it sounded more believable to Oberyn than Tyrion killing his own nephew through either manipulation or his own design. 

Politics were complicated and often underhandedly dishonest at the best of times though and that had turned the tides though there would always be suspicion of his involvement. Though he was 'asked' to sit as one of the judges in Tyrion's trial by Tywin Oberyn knew it wasn't really a request but rather a way to ensure he stayed within the capitol's walls as the old Lannister lion did what he did best and twisted people's perception to best serve his agenda while Keeping Dorne in the fold. He supposed it was too bad for Tyrion that his father hated him, or perhaps it would have been Oberyn in his place about to be convicted of a crime he had inadvertently helped to perpetrate no matter how passively.

Everyone knew that Tywin held no love for his youngest son. Not only was he physically disabled but he was without a mark which only solidified the man's belief that despite the love he had felt for his wife while she still drew breath that Tyrion was not his son. Oberyn had his own theories when it came to Tywin's three children and it had been an idea that had formed when he was a child sent to visit Casterly Rock when Tyrion had just been born. While everyone believed that Cersei and Jaimie were each other's soulmates he saw something else entirely. Despite being twins the first few years of their lives Cersei was the only one with a mark, which wasn't terribly unusual marks can appear at various times through life into adulthood. What was unusual was that the day that Jaimie's mark finally took shape was the night his baby brother was born.

The whole of Westeros knew that the Kingslayer would go to the ends of the earth to protect his little brother, would pay any price where the rest of his family wouldn't. He didn't have much left since he had been returned from his Northern captivity though, not without his sword hand. In passing Oberyn had wondered what Sansa thought of Ser Jaimie Lannister's return. If she reveled in the fact that he had all but been unmanned and would be forced to continue his days always missing an even more tangible piece of himself than she had lost in this War of Five Kings, or if she raged at the thought that even though he was crippled the Lannister's still got back their golden lion alive where her prayers seemed to only be answered with death. 

He had been sitting in the Great Hall alongside the Lannister and Tyrell patriarch's vaguely aware of continuous testimony pointing towards Tyrion's guilt. It was all a farce, the Imp's fate had been decided before the trial had even begun and Oberyn let his gaze rest on his intended's husband wondering when he would realize that his only hope of freedom would be to choose a trial by combat. Perhaps he already knew, but who other than his brother would choose to stand for him and the Kingslayer no longer was as he had been. He could no longer fight to keep his brother safe and the pain of that revelation was gaining clarity on Jaimie's face with every witness against his little brother.

With a sigh Oberyn was simply waiting for the little lion to break one way or another vaguely curious as to the outcome but more preoccupied with the fact that he was essentially being kept captive here in the place his sister and her children had lost their lives beside the man who had ordered their deaths. It was with that thought it occurred to Oberyn that this may very well have been part of Sansa's plan as well. Turn the lions on each other and put him in the gilded cage in which she had been kept for so long with the people who had killed his family. Poetic really, though he knew he would never be treated with the disregard as she had been. 

He supposed it was only fitting that he have at least a taste of what she experienced. That they all did. He would simply have to wait to find her as she had waited.

"Clever, indeed."


	4. Chapter 4

It had been during one of the few moments that Oberyn had during this play act of a trial when a woman who was taller than most men and just as broad walking his way face stern in her breeches and tunic, sword at her hip so out of place here in the capital where women fighters were all but unheard of. Just by watching the way she approached him Oberyn could tell this woman was formidable. Oh, how she reminded him of his Obara, not what would be called pretty but more fierce and determined to prove that just because she had been born without a cock didn’t mean that she couldn’t and wouldn’t knock each and every man who thought she was less than into the dirt to remind them that if it weren’t for the pride of men and a woman’s giving nature their’s would be the sex that would rule the world. Hell, in most of the successful houses the woman was the power behind the throne playing in shadows to best serve their husband and their people seeking none of the praise that their male counterparts seemed to need in order to survive. 

If you asked Oberyn all houses should follow in the steps of the Martell’s, and surprisingly the Mormont’s and allow their girls to hold their families lands because if they happen to be the eldest it should be their birthright no matter what lay between their legs. “Prince Oberyn I am sorry to disturb you but I can not delay any longer.” Now this had his attention, he had heard the woman had been sent to return the Lannister’s great golden lion in exchange for the two daughters the Lannister’s had claimed to host. He can only imagine her rage filled heartbreak that she would be unable to fulfill the last task the great Lady Catelyn Stark had appointed her before her death. Instead she was faced with a long-missing girl and the remaining daughter no longer allowed to even so much as bear her name, labeled Lannister as if that could make everyone forget, a girl who had been spirited away by people unknown. “You are no bother Lady Brienne, I would give whatever I can to aid you in your quest in the name of the once great Lady Stark and her children.” 

Surprised blue eyes looked wary but hopeful at his words, so he pulled aside the lapel of his overcoat for her to see where his loyalties were without question The hope he had seen in her eyes had burned so brightly for just a moment as she took half a step closer before he could see her suspicions once again come forward causing his heart to ache at the thought of being the cause of such distrust. While she did not grip her sword Oberyn could see the effort it took for her to refrain and slowly moved his hand back down gripping them together to show that he had no intention of going for a weapon either. The sneer on the woman’s face was fearsome he could admit and as he let his eyes stray to her neck where there was no mistaking a young stag antlers only beginning to grow Oberyn had a feeling he knew why she seemed so angry on Santa’s behalf. Pain shared turned even strangers into the most determined of allies.

“As if a soul mark means anything” She scoffed with a sort of resignation that came only with continuous experience with mistreatment. Oberyn could not blame her, not with her experience in soul marks. After all, it couldn’t have been easy being in love with a man who could never return your affection. At least not in the way most soul marked do if they are not related by blood. Unfortunately though she and Renly had shared each other’s marks theirs was platonic for him, while she was so very much in love with the man. A man she was destined for but could never have.

“You must have had that mark on your chest for years. How long did it take for you to come to her aid? How many of your children were born after you knew she existed?” Well, it seemed that the Lady Brienne could cut just as easily with her words as the sword at her hip. Good Sansa would need all the strength he could find, never again would she be alone.

“I understand your anger and I deserve it, mostly. But you do not know everything, the years of planning it took to get me into the capitol without suspicion so please at the very least allow me to explain before you condemn me for the actions of a foolish child blind with grief.”

“You are the Red Viper of Dorne.” She spat the words like poison at him but his chest still puffed with pride, at least until she turned to leave with one last scornful look. 

“If both Lady Sansa and Dorne should call I wonder who you’d choose. History has shown your love for your country outweighs her and there is no reason for her to believe otherwise and neither do I. Not even with your pretty words. Good day Prince Oberyn.”

Yet, another ugly truth he didn’t wish to concern himself with until necessary. Another fault he had, that he wished to keep from sight, for he could not answer her with certainty. What would he do if both she and his home called to him, would he be able to turn away from the place that held all of his most important people for her? He already knew himself to be imperfect, but was he self-aware enough to recognize just how deeply those imperfections ran. Could Brienne be right in her assumption that he would always leave his intended as anything other than his priority unless convenience allowed it? Duty was always easy when there was no other choice after all, and now he would forever have to choose.

His usually steady steps were uneven and so much unlike his usual stride that even strangers he passed gazed at him with questions filling their eyes as he made his way back to the rooms that had been “gifted” to him and Ellaria for their stay in King’s Landing. He was not accustomed to the distrust he had been shown since his arrival, and by so many people. In Dorne he was their beloved Prince, always ready to protect and defend any that needed aide. Yet, here in a land so unlike his homeland he was seen as something so very different and he was unsure of whether or not he truly was as he had always been told or if perhaps the words he was hearing now were more accurate. He prayed that wasn't true. 

“Lady Sansa.” 

Littlefinger liked to take small liberties such as this. Refusing to outwardly acknowledge her position, or at least her claim of position while simultaneously making it seem to the untrained eye theatre they shared a close and equally respected relationship. When the man’s hand had settled to the small of he back too low for propriety no matter the fact he was now by all intends and purposes her uncle if only by marriage to an aunt she hadn’t met since the cradle. 

She’d felt sorry for the woman that was her mother’s sister, but there was little room left inside her for pity after Joffrey. Everyone thought she was a pretty little bird whose wings had long since been clipped. Who only ever sung pretty songs those around her most wished to hear, and as a wolf laying in wait she has been patient no matter the losses she suffered. 

She bid her time because while those that tried to turn her paws to wings had forgotten she was born to be nothing other than a wolf and there was no changing such things as they were decided by the gods, but she let them forget she never had those pretty wings of a little dove, of a songbird as so many believed her to be as she hid both fang and claw. 

Lord Baelish required a delicate balance to keep him from prying too deeply and yet not seeming too simple of mind as to lose his attention. Turning to face the man it took more effort than she would have liked to keep a placid expression as the man’s hand slid from her back to her side in what most would call a caress. 

“I believe my title is at the very least Princess Sansa, if not Queen until I am crowned by the remaining northern lords. Unless of course lord Baelish you do not intend to back my claim on my ancestral home as both the eldest and last remaining Stark. In which case you should still address me as Lady Stark.”

“Forgive me my Queen.” 

How many times had she heard this vile specimen of a man say these words to Cersei, how many had he said then to anyone he thought to use as a means to whatever convoluted end he had in mind. There was a large part that raged at not being able the make the little man pay now for the crimes he thought she didn’t know he’d committed, but she needed to wait. 

She still had need of him , though she knew he was using her in turn. Knew better than to trust the man who had helped to put her father’s head under Ser Illyn’s far too skilled hands despite of of maybe even because of the love he had claimed to bare for her mother and now apparently her. 

It suited her well enough that he saw her as a pseudo replacement for her mother when he let his gaze linger or he might see the wolf he had foolishly taken into his company. That he had invited her, coveted her presence was enough to blind him to any small slips she may have made.

He was still bringing her north, and the north remembered. Though if there was one thing she learned in the south and playing the pretty little bird they wished her to be it was how to gather nuggets of information frivolously given in her presence. 

After all she was the daughter of a traitor good for nothing but a tool to take hold of the north and all it’s wilderness. She made sure that unlike her sister none of the northern wildness was seen in her, she let her enemies forget she too was of salt and snow. 

A hand ran absently along her hip where she could almost feel a burst of what must be the heat of the Dornish song in her head singing to her this wasn’t the man chosen for her. Begging in a sort of way that she had long since become accustomed to and yet still not yet immune to. How many times had she sat and prayed and willed a Dornish army to sack the city, for her Red Viper of a Prince to finally come and rescue her and help her rescue and keep what remained of her family alive. 

Now she was all that remained, and she had little use for a Dornish Prince. It was only now that she was the last remaining Stark that the rebellious lands of Dorne even looked in her direction. Not that she needed them to rescue her anymore it still stung when she felt the draw to there vicious Prince when he seemed perfectly content with his paramour and whores in lord Baelish’s establishments. 

Straightening her shoulders accentuating her already impressive height, “ To what do I owe the honor of your presence my lord?” It was all so tedious as if he’d tried hiding his cards after already showing her his hand and telling her how he would play them. 

Not bothering to let the man speak wishing to be done with the facade of it all so she could return to her chambers. “ the Bolton’s may be traitors, but I seem to be surrounded by them so why not eat it continue if it gets me my home back?” 

A smirk threatened to break free at the astonishment that Petyr quickly wiped from his face with a construct of concern that in the past she may have believed to be genuine that made her blood boil and hand grip into tight gusts hidden in her ornate sleeves. 

She had been in the south now almost as long as she had been north of its borders. The lords of her home would question her legitimacy to her father’s lands, her brother’s crown. For now she would have to see those that would help and those that would oppose her thinking her too dimwitted to k ow when they were stealing straight from her hand. 

Either way the Boltons would burn for what they did. Eventually, until even their words were forgotten. “My Queen, if I may? How did you manage to poison Joffrey Baratheon?” If anything Littlefinger was a covetous thing and while Sansa could easily tell the man it would do nothing other than further solidify what was at this point only whispered rumor and now was not the time to revel in that particular victory. 

“I simply used the chaos to make my escape and sought refuge from the one man I knew would defy the crown for me, for which I shall forever be grateful.”

The kiss she pressed to the who’re monger’s cheek lasted bust a second but it was as though her body was rebelling, calling out for a man she had no want or need of. 

Oberyn should have worked out part of her plan if he was half as clever as he was rumored to be which was rare. He should know at the very least that he could keep his beloved Dorne, and his beautiful Ellaria with his brood of children. She simply wanted Winterfell, she wanted northern skies and snow not sand and endless sun; and she would take it the same as she has taken anything since she rode south. Alone. 

Sansa doubted even if the vultures of Kings Landing looked in Oberyn’s way as the cause of the dearly departed Joffrey Baratheon’s demise that the man wouldn’t manage to survive somehow. As much as it pained her in a way to throw Tyrion into his own family’s pit of lions it was necessary in many ways. To tear at the root of the Lannister power and divide their loyalties amongst each other and by seeing if Oberyn even had the capabilities of looking past his armor of familial hate and personal dislike for all those clothed in crimson and gold of the Lannister’s of casterly rock to put his own well-being in jeopardy to save a man who may bare the name of a for but none of the surly of their sins. 

Sansa wasn’t sure which she truly hoped for but history had shown the true color of many a man. Though even she could admit that there was still a piece of here that she called a stupid little girl that prayed for a true knight. A knight the likes of which she had heard songs sung for in the great hall throughout her upbringing in her home. She supposed she would simply have to wait a bit longer for the answer to that question and focus instead on more immediate problems. Like Ramsay Bolton.


End file.
